


Hold On

by Lotor_Loves_Me



Series: Lament [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sad, Shadam, Space Dad Shiro (Voltron), Voltron, adashi, earth dad adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 15:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16043258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lotor_Loves_Me/pseuds/Lotor_Loves_Me
Summary: Shiro regrets leaving.But Adam regrets letting him go, and the way he chose to do it.





	Hold On

**Author's Note:**

> Song: Hold On- Chord Overstreet

_Loving and fighting..._  
Well we chose the latter.

 _Accusing, uniting,_  
I chose the former. But either way...  
_I can’t imagine a world with you gone. Oh, the joy and the chaos... the demons we’re made of, I’d be so lost if you left me alone..._

~~~

The barren gray wasteland that was my life unfolded before my eyes. I wanted it to disappear. _I_ wanted to disappear.

“...I know I can’t stop you,” I had sniped gingerly. 

_Hold on, I still want you..._  
I wanted to make amends.

~~~

Instead, you found yourself opening the door to a suddenly forlorn condo. You moved through the living room, sparsely decorated and orderly as it had been, two and a half years prior. Raw misery welled in the pits of your stomach, clawing it’s way up into your throat and out of your mouth in an anguished cry. 

Knees met carpet, your bag tossed haphazardly in the corner of ou- _your_ bedroom, your head pressed harshly against the side of the wooden bed frame.

The cold, unblemished, band of rose gold sat in your trembling palm.

~~~

My glimpses of you were fleeting, hardly there altogether. I know you made sure of it. Your smile, your beautiful smile... it wasn’t quite right. Your eyes, they didn’t squint at the proper angle, your nose didn’t wrinkle, your skin didn’t flush.

It wasn’t as though anyone noticed... but me, of course.

And I’m sure that’s how you wanted it. Because that’s who you were. Takashi Shirogane, golden boy of the Garrison, most promising pilot of the age. Always polite, always friendly, always on top of his work. Everybody loved you. And that’s why I wanted to be the exception. The only problem? I came to love you in a different way than all the others. And I still did.

I know because I felt it. I felt it when I peeked into the break room, to check if it was empty. (I’d been called out for my unusually quiet and brooding demeanor, I’m sure many would attempt to ambush me as I got my lunch.) But what I found, was you. Takashi Shirogane, the porcelain mask cracked. Your hands covered your face, shaking as much as your shoulders were.

All the emotion you’d been stuffing away, it all came pouring out. And I wanted to do something. But what?

_Let me take your hand, I’ll make it right. I swear to love you all my life..._

~~~

I’d lain awake all night. How could I sleep, when you were three miles away, struggling for sleep yourself, when you need it most. I’d rolled over to check the clock. Two hours until the call. 

As the recently promoted senior commander of technology and communication, I was one of four people in the car, as I drove us to the launch sight. The air was tense, and the two in the back didn’t say a thing, if they’d noticed. I was able to steal a glance or two from my rear view mirror.

Yes, I saw when your brows twitched, your lip caught between your teeth, and your left hand moved to clench at and cradle your right. I’d wanted to call off the mission. Keep you here, spend the rest of your... time, as best we could. But I’d ruined all chances for that. And my prejudice and stance on the matter wouldn’t allow me to apologize.

_A long endless highway, you’re silent beside me... Drivin’ a nightmare I can’t escape from..._

The entire trip was the epitome of awkward. Iverson was meditating like the strange man he is. Admiral Sanda slept silently. I wanted to say something, and realized that there were no words, no topics ready to roll off my tongue. It had been like that with you. But now, searching for something to say, my mouth went dry. We hadn’t actually spoken since... that day.

So I wouldn’t speak now. I can’t afford to break your focus. 

_Helplessly praying, the light isn’t fadin’, hiding in the shock and the chill in my bones._

~~~

_PILOT ERROR_

The head title flashed across the screen of the television in the Garrison’s staff lounge. I stared dumbly at it.

“Three crew members aboard the space craft- Samuel Holt, Matthew Holt, and the outstanding pilot Tak-”

All the books and movies lie, you know. The world doesn’t stop. The world didn’t go dark, my world didn’t start spinning.

Everything just went... numb. I don’t remember standing. All I knew is that I was. The world around me... well, it was a blur. Smears of grays, browns and oranges. Blobs of faces. My brain hardly registered sound, every nerve in me was tingling- no, _screaming._

I wanted to scream back at them.

“...am. Adam. Are you alright?” A woman asked.

 _No, why the hell would I be alright?_ his subconscious blared.

It was only then that Adam vaguely noticed he had stumbled into the main hall. Staff was swarming, the alarms were wailing. Not that he could hear them, really.

“I need to get to Keith.”

“Keith,” the woman repeated. “Keith Kogane? The one who was kicked out? The boy that Sh-”

“I’m going.” He said firmly, the world coming into focus, if only for a second.

~~~

“NO!” Keith screamed. 

“Kei-”

“THAT’S BULLSHIT ADAM. BULL-SHIT. IT’S BULLSHIT AND YOU KNOW IT. SHIRO IS THE BEST PILOT THERE EVER HAS BEEN. SHIRO TAUGHT ME EVERYTHING I KNOW, AND I’M THE BEST PILOT OF THIS CLASS. SHIRO WOULD NEVER MAKE AN ERROR, SHI-”

“YOU DON’T THINK I HAVE MY DOUBTS?” I roared back, silencing the boy. “I LOVED HIM, _LOVE HIM_ , LIVED WITH HIM. LIVED WITH HIM FOR TWO AND A HALF YEARS. I KNOW HIM BETTER THAN ANYONE. I KNOW HE WORKED HIMSELF TO THE BREAKING POINT, I REMEMBER HAVING TO DRAG HIM TO OU- HIS BED.” I paused at my own fumble and correction, taking the opportunity to breathe and calmly myself.

“He’s not gone.” Keith murmured after a long, suffocating stretch of silence. “He isn’t. He’s still out there.” 

Keith retreated to the side of the shack with a lengthy, worn couch buffered by metal handlebars. He perched on it, huddled himself in the furthermost corner of it, and drew his ragtag, patched-up sheet to his chin. He swayed forwards and then back.

“He’s coming back,” Keith whispered. “He and Matt and Commander Holt are done with the samples. They’re on their way back, the beginning of the two month journey. Their satellite is probably having some interference. That’s all.”

“Keith...”

Adam surged towards the couch, throwing himself down, grabbing the smaller boy and pulling him to his chest. Keith hiccuped as he held his cries back, but at Adam’s soothing embrace, he let down his walls. It wasn’t pretty. Keith screamed, he cried, unleashed a torrent of profanity directed at Iverson. At one point, Adam thinks he heard him legitimately snarl, which was absurd. They were both simply out of it.

Keith was finally falling asleep, still firmly pressed to Adam’s chest. Adam, who had been stoic and calm throughout the storm. Keith was still mumbling as he grappled with exhaustion.

“Shiro is perf- never make mistake..,” he slurred. “Iss’all lie... s’all fake... Iverson’s fault. Somebody’s fault. Always...not Shiro’s... but... some... one...”

Adam slowly shifted from the couch, placing a pillow beneath Keith in his chest’s stead. Adam hadn’t thought about it. He supposed he hadn’t really thought at all. In fact, he hardly remembers how he’d gotten here. He slipped quietly out of the door. Someone to blame... 

It hit him hard and fast, like the infamous ‘chancla’ he’d always heard a Garrison cadet complaining about. 

The person to blame... was none other than... himself. He walked only a short distance from Keith’s shack. Looking upwards, the stars twinkled jeeringly at him. The night had never looked so unfriendly, so... so... so empty. He then realized that it wasn’t that the sky was empty- _he_ was. The sky was still filled with stars and only God knows what, but it didn’t feel the same. It wouldn’t feel the same, not ever again. The sight of the flickering celestial bodies brought with it a chill- a reminder, that the warmth he felt when he and Takashi would sneak out at night to lay on the roof of the Garrison- that warmth would never return. Hot tears painted his face as a wave of guilt, misery, and longing crashed over him. 

I did this. I did this to us. _To him._ Now, I’ll never see him again. Seriously, how could I have not seen it sooner? I was the only person at fault. A boy I’d known and loved since my cadet days- my crew leader, my roommate, my best friend. My lover, my world, my soul, my everything... he was gone now, and it was because of me.

In a panic, I searched through my frenzied mind, for something- _anything_ to calm me. A memory I could live in, another world to escape to. I only succeeded in making things worse.

I couldn’t remember the way he had held my hand, if he liked to be the back hand or the front. I couldn’t remember the order in which our fingers interlaced. I couldn’t feel his warmth around me. I couldn’t hear his steady breath as he slept or studied. I couldn’t see him waking me up with a cup of green tea, or smell the minty vanilla scent of his shampoo.

I was losing him. 

Then I was hit again, with another, lonelier, larger, and more daunting epiphany.

I’d already lost him.

“...If you do decide to go, don’t expect me to be here when you get back.”

I tripped, but I couldn’t care less. Unwillingly, I kneeled, my hands digging into the rough, dusty cracks of the desert ground. I felt so small, the open air strangling me with every passing second, and the endless expanse of space swallowing me. I broke even further than I had, in the moment that I swung my duffel over my shoulder, and tugged the symbol of our love and devotion from my aching finger, leaving it on the bedside table, where I use to place my glasses.

Throwing my head back and pulling my glasses off, I cried out to the unknown.

_Can you hear me screaming: “Please don’t leave me!”_

~~~

“...dam. Adam. Adam, love. Come back to bed.” The warmth of strong yet slender appendages against my cheek jostled me a bit from my sleep.

Only then, did the words, the voice, the sound, the touch- only then, did they register. My back stiffened and I sat upright, one hand holding myself up on the desk, the other adjusting my glasses. 

“Takashi..?” I echoed, into the apartment that was once ours.

I’d moved back in, the day after leaving Keith’s shack. He, along with three other Garrison cadets, had long since gone missing. Of course, they have all been presumed dead, and of course, the Garrison has gone about it as though nothing has changed. I found the sudden urge to visit _his_ favorite room. I hadn’t set foot in it since the day I moved back in. Often, I do as I am doing now, stand at the door, hand on the divot we used to slide the door open. Only this time, I dug my fingers into the faded brass indent, and dragged the door open. It squealed in protest.

What greeted me was the Chabudai, the short-legged Japanese table, traditional of family meals. A three year old layer of dust had settled upon it, filling the beautiful engravings of a sakura tree and its blossoms. The futons on which we’d sat were dusty as well. In the moment, I decided I would clean it.

I grabbed a duster, a cloth, and some cleaner, then set to work. I tossed out the old futons, and replaced them with the back-ups we had stored in the kitchen cabinet. I cleansed and polished the porcelain plates on the mantle, killed a few spiders here and there.

Two hours later, and this room looked like it had when we cleaned up after our last meal together. The fleeting aftertaste of sushi and Koshu- our favorite white grape wine- suddenly turning bitter and bland against my tongue.

I don’t remember when the tears started. All I knew is that I was sitting on the futon, legs “criss-cross applesauce” as you’d taught me was appropriate at the Chabudai. My hand skimmed along the beautiful carving of the Sakura tree, fingers coming to a rest on the one particular branch at which our fingers always met, intertwining and locking, with no intention of letting go.

_I don’t want to let go..._

My fingers scratched at that spot, suddenly furious with the cold, wooden surface. I cried out again. And it felt good. I curled my nails into the material, cursing the lacquer which wouldn’t allow me to chip away at the image of the Cherry Blossom tree. I wanted it to go away. I banged my fists like a child on the table. 

I hit the table furiously, screaming- but at what, I’m not sure. Mostly just at life. For taking you away from me, for not giving me the chance to make amends. 

At myself, for not swallowing my pride and loving you the way I should have, and supporting you and your dreams. 

The power in my strikes drained quickly, and I was hit with a flashback. I’d had a tantrum like this before, when I’d heard that other cadets were bullying one of my mentees. But I couldn’t do anything about it, because Iverson stated that without evidence, my claims were futile. Even despite the cadet, whose bruises and contusions were standing out against his once beautiful Cuban skin tone.

I’d gotten home and trashed our shared office, and all you did was wrap your hands around my torso, your warmth sapping away my anger, until I collapsed back against you. You lifted me, even in light of our equal size, and carried me to our bed. You layed down besides me, holding me to your chest and whispering soothing, sweet nothings.

Now, I’d give anything for that.

_I know I’m not that strong, I just wanna hear you..._

I leave the room, closing it and even leaving the condo, going for a walk. I’d done this when we had our first argument. And despite both of our fuming temperaments, you’d chased after me. It took you no less than the time it took me to reach our bench at the local park. You grabbed my hand and tugged me back, holding me tightly, in an almost constricting way, and apologizing repeatedly. You had come to take me home.

How I wish I could do that for you now... even if only for a burial.

_Saying baby, let’s go home. Let’s go home... Yeah, I just wanna take you home..._

~~~

I should’ve have stopped you, I know I could have. I had the chance. I should’ve called out. Called out to you as you climbed into the shuttle. Cried out...

_Hold on, I still want you..._

Instead, I gave a curt nod, and looked away as the door sealed.

~~~

How ironic... that I once feared my own imagination. The imagery that forced itself into my head at the thought of a world deprived of your existence.

It’s no long a fear, no longer a terror. It’s my reality. I don’t have to imagine how I spend it-

I sit at the chabudai every night, tracing the branch of the Sakura. Crying, wallowing in my overwhelming emotions- lost in the labyrinth that was grief, with out Ariadne’s String or your gentle, guiding hand to lead me out of it.

I wish you could hear me calling...

_Come back, I still need you._

**Author's Note:**

> i’m sorry, don’t hurt me. this hurt me enough to write.  
> art on my insta- c0smic_c0mics


End file.
